A Story Untold

Spanish Influenza

September 1918, Chicago Illinois

(Journal entry)

My entire 17 years of life, I have never seen anything such as this virus. Many people are dying and I may be one of those many people to add to that list. They have said that I have caught this illness. I'm not sure how to take this information.
What do I do? What can I do?
Really, nothing is worse than feeling death slowly approach you until you no longer have the option of life and death.
If I had the option to run, get away from this illness, I would in a heartbeat. 
My father has already passed due to this damned virus, now my mother has contracted it too. She is in worse condition than I, though, I have been exposed to it longer than she has.
Currently we're at a ward to help with this. I see many Ill people. Some have been in and out of consciousness, some have been crying out in pain, many have taken their last breaths. Meanwhile, I'm here, waiting for me to experience what these other people are experiencing.
It's a frightening reality that I have and thousands of others have to deal with.

It's strange to think back to a few months ago, back in June I turned 17. Everything was so different then. Father was there with an approving smile, mother was there also. Greeting the other guests that had came to celebrate my birthday. There were decorations my mother worked so hard to put together for me. My father did his best to gather the gifts and get the cake. During that time was a difficult time for us due to the fact that we were running low on money. Though, they somehow still managed to get things set up. With mother's creative mind, and father's patience, they both came together and did what normally would be impossible to do. When it came time for everyone to sing happy birthday, my mother held me in her arms and whispered how proud she was of me. The warmth of her love was something that I will never forget. That was by far, one of my best memories.

Now, I have to sit here and listen to the horrible news that yet again, another one of my parents are going to die. What am I going to do? All I can do is pray for a blessing. A blessing to change what fate my mother and I have.
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As I finished writing in my journal, a male doctor walked in the door.
He was pale with blond hair. His eyes were almost that of a gold amber color. This man was very different with his looks compared to the others here.
Yet, he wasn't ugly. He was the complete opposite, actually.
He was in an off white shirt with pants and what seemed to look like an apron. He also had a mask on, as though everyone nowadays had to wear one.

As I was inspecting this odd man, he was reading the paperwork that one of the other nurses had placed at the end of my bed. His face seemed unbothered by the information written on the paper.

"Mister Masen, I am doctor Cullen, I see you have been unlucky and have contradicted this awful illness that everyone has gotten." He then looked up to meet my gaze and placed the paper down. He then added after a short breath "I do have to apologize for that. I know this is a very difficult situation for you and everyone else. But I assure you, I will personally make sure you get the best treatment you need, along with anything else you may need." He then smiled under his mask. Though, I couldn't see his smile, I could see his eyes squeeze closer.

"Thank you. I do have to ask, do you know if my mother is okay? She was sent here a few days before me and I have yet to know anything about her." I said as I readjusted in my seat on the bed, ready for any news.
It seemed as though my question was shocking to him.

"Your mother is here also?" He asked raising his eyebrows. Before I could answer he asked what her name was.
"What is her name? I can look in the documents that the other nurses have written down and I can get you an answer as soon as possible."
This man was more efficient than half of the so called doctors here. He took his job seriously and you could tell.

"Her name is Elizabeth Masen. And I believe she's in room 31 floor two. That is unless she has been moved." I said as I frowned at that thought.

"I will go look right after I ask you a few important things so that I know what I'm dealing with exactly, is that okay?" He asked as he read my expression.

"Yes, I guess that's fine." I said quickly.
Yay, more stupid questions to ask. I thought to myself.

"Okay, Mister Masen," he then pulled out a fresh pen and paper ready to write anything down. "On a scale from one to ten, how much pain are you currently in?" He asked without lifting his head from the paper.

"no, I feel nothing." I said blandly.

He then continued writing on the paper.
"Great! Now, tell me, do you have, sore head and tiredness, a dry, hacking cough; a loss of appetite; stomach problems or sweating excessively?"

"None of the above." I said in the same tone.
Half of those questions he could tell by just looking at me. I thought to myself seems a bit irritated.
He then wrote for a few extra seconds after that question leaving me to think to myself. I looked down to the journal in my hand.

He then placed the paper back on the bed and walked over to me. He pulled the stethoscope hanging from around his neck and put the ear pieces into his ears and placed the other end on my chest gently.
"I want you take slow deep breaths for me please."

As I took in a breath and exhaled, I looked over at him, examining his face again. Something about him was off. I couldn't place it though.

"Again" he said focusing more intently.

I took another deep breath and immediately had the feeling of needing to cough. I started coughing and he removed the scope and watched.

"Okay, maybe one thing on that list I have." I said jokingly.

"It seems so, doesn't it?" He said with a grin. He then asked "can I get you some water to possibly help?"

"Water won't help this illness." I said blandly again and snorted a bit.

He then stepped closer and placed the scope back on to my chest. He mover it up and down a few times and then placed it to my back.
After a few seconds which felt like hours, he then pulled away and looked at me. He had kindness in his eyes. Something you don't see often in doctors.

"What's the news, Doc?" I asked looking directly at him.

"Well, it seems you do have a bit of wheezing in your lungs. That's not a good sign." He said as he walked over to the paper's again and picked them up.

"So what's the mean for me?" I asked knowing the answer already.

"Basically it means that you have the beggings of the flu mister Masen." He said as he looked back up to me.
"But I have faith that maybe since it's so early we can stop it with some strong antibiotics and other things." He added in a positive tone.

"Doctor Cullen, you don't have to beat around the bush with me. I know how serious this situation is. I lost my father to it the first round of it. Now my mother is in her death bed." I paused and looked back down, now realizing that I was next. This hit me like a brick to the face. "I'm next, aren't I?" I asked still looking down.

"It is my job to make sure you stay healthy." He walked over to my side again. "I can't promise you will make it out alive, but I can promise I will do everything I can to help you out."

I then looked up him. Something about him made m feel like I could trust him. I mean, after all, I am trusting him with my life.

"Are we done with the questions for today?" I asked changing the subject.

"Yes, for now. But tomorrow I will have to ask them again." He said while smiling."
I then groaned and placed my face into my palms.
I complained "there's nothing more annoying than being asked the same questions over and over again!"

"How else are we going to find out how you feel if we don't ask you questions?" He asked while still smiling.

"I'm not sure, but at least be creative with the questions. Reword it or something?" I said with my face still in my palms.

"I'll keep that in mind Mister Masen." He then walked over to the door and stopped. I heard his footsteps stop and looked up at him. "I'll go look into your mother. I'll come back and report to you once I find something, okay?"

I shook my head at his question and looked back down at my journal. Now that he had left, I was to myself again. Left to my dwelling thoughts.